## Chapter 3: Murmurs of Might

The Association's library was usually quiet at midnight. Tonight, though, quiet whispers bounced off the towering shelves of scrolls and books.

"The signs are clear," a hooded figure whispered. "First Commander Voss's technique fails mysteriously. Then the Shadow Blade displays power beyond her known capabilities..."

"The convergence approaches," another agreed. "Lord Magnus must be informed."

A yawn interrupted their clandestine meeting. Both figures spun around to find Kasian sitting cross-legged on a nearby desk, flipping through a martial arts manual with obvious boredom.

"This is restricted area!" the first figure hissed. "How did you—"

"These books are all wrong," Kasian said, tossing the manual aside. "That stance would just give you back pain." He looked up. "Oh, sorry. Were you having a secret meeting? Don't mind me."

The second figure stepped forward, pulling back his hood to reveal the severe face of Senior Archivist Chen. "You... you're the wanderer who was present at both incidents."

"Incidents?" Kasian scratched his head. "Oh right, the lightning guy and the glowing muscle guy. How are they doing?"

"You dare make light of sacred events?" Chen's eyes narrowed. "Unless... you're the one. The catalyst Lord Magnus foresaw."

"Magnus?" Kasian perked up slightly. "Is he strong?"

"Lord Magnus possesses power beyond your comprehension! He has transcended—"

"Yeah, but is he strong though?"

Chen's face reddened. "Insolent fool! The Crimson Fang welcomes those who respect true power. But you—"

"Sorry," Kasian interrupted again, "but where can I find this Magnus guy?"

"As if we would tell you—"

"The abandoned temple in the Eastern Mountains," the first figure blurted out, earning a glare from Chen. "He's gathering followers for the great convergence!"

"Thanks." Kasian stood and stretched. "By the way, your secret cult meeting spot has rats." He pointed under a shelf where tiny eyes gleamed. "Might want to try the roof next time. Better ventilation too."

He walked out, leaving the conspirators in stunned silence.

"Should... should we warn Lord Magnus?" the first figure asked.

Chen's face darkened. "No. Let the fool come. Lord Magnus will show him the true meaning of power."

---

Dawn found Lei Ming practicing in the Association's third-rate training yard – the only one his low rank allowed him to use. His movements were different now, simpler but somehow more focused.

"Basic training again?" a voice sneered. Three elite trainees stood at the entrance. "How's that working out for you, disciple of the Lucky Wanderer?"

Lei Ming continued his push-ups. "Pretty well, actually."

"He's delusional," one laughed. "Probably hit his head when his master ran away."

"He's not my master," Lei Ming said, switching to sit-ups. "He just reminded me that complicated doesn't always mean better."

"Then you won't mind a practical demonstration?" The lead trainee stepped forward, energy gathering around his fist. "Show us what your basic training can do against real technique!"

What happened next would later be attributed to the morning dew affecting the elite trainee's footwork. Somehow, Lei Ming's simple sidestep had led to all three attackers tripping over each other and crashing into a wall.

"Huh," Lei Ming said, looking at his hands. "The basics really do work."

From a nearby rooftop, Kasian paused his snacking to watch the scene. "Oh, it's Lei Ding. Good form on those push-ups." He turned eastward, where mountains rose in the distance. "Now, about that Magnus guy..."

## The Weight of Reputation

Aria Blackthorn had a problem: she was becoming too famous.

"Please, Shadow Blade!" A young warrior prostrated himself before her. "Teach me the Secret Energy Reversal Technique!"

"There is no technique," she said for the hundredth time. "I didn't—"

"Such humility!" another admirer cried. "Truly worthy of the one who defeated the Crimson Giant!"

Aria groaned. Ever since the North Gate incident, her life had become increasingly complicated. Warriors sought her guidance. The Association offered her a promotion. Scrolls were being written about theoretical energy manipulation techniques she'd supposedly mastered.

And somewhere out there, the actual hero was probably eating noodles.

She found herself at the Crimson Serpent again, seeking the strange wanderer. Instead, she found Lei Ming doing push-ups in the corner.

"You're his follower, aren't you?" she asked. "The one they call the Lucky Wanderer."

"Not exactly," Lei Ming said between push-ups. "But I'm learning from him anyway."

"Where is he?"

"No idea. But he mentioned something about checking out some lord in the mountains. Seemed excited about it."

Aria's blood ran cold. "Lord Magnus? The cult leader?"

"That's the one. Said something about hoping this one takes three hits."

Before Aria could respond, the tavern door burst open. A messenger stumbled in, face pale.

"The Eastern Temple!" he gasped. "It's... it's gone! The whole mountain top... just gone!"

The tavern erupted in theories:

"Must have been a natural disaster!"

"I heard the Shadow Blade was seen in that area!"

"No, no, it was obviously the temple's own power backfiring!"

Aria and Lei Ming shared a knowing look.

"Should we tell them?" Lei Ming asked.

Aria sighed, watching her reputation grow yet again for something she hadn't done. "Would they even believe us?"

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Probably not." Lei Ming returned to his push-ups. "Want to join? The basics really do help."

Somewhere in the rubble of what used to be the Eastern Temple, Lord Magnus lay twitching, wondering how his ultimate technique had been defeated by someone who seemed more interested in critiquing the temple's architectural design than fighting.

And Kasian, slightly disappointed that it had still only taken two hits, was already walking toward his next meal, completely unaware that he had just dismantled a major cult and added another chapter to the growing legend of the Shadow Blade.

## A God's Appetite

Kasian had three current problems:

First, the noodle shop he'd been anticipating was closed for renovations.

Second, someone had been following him for the past hour.

Third, he couldn't remember if he'd left his laundry out to dry.

The first problem was the most pressing.

"Excuse me," he called out to the air, "I know you're hiding behind that barrel. Do you know any good noodle places around here?"

A figure in black robes emerged, looking startled. "How did you— Never mind. Lord Magnus sent me to—"

"Magnus? The mountain temple guy?" Kasian's shoulders slumped. "Don't tell me he's still conscious. That would be disappointing."

"Lord Magnus has transcended mere physical form! His defeat was merely—"

"So he's not actually strong anymore?" Kasian sighed. "Back to finding food then."

The robed figure moved to block his path. "You don't understand. The Crimson Fang is everywhere. We have infiltrated every level of the Warriors' Association. Even now, our agents are—"

A distant explosion interrupted him. Kasian looked toward the sound, mild irritation crossing his face.

"That came from the market district," the cultist said with smug satisfaction. "Where your favorite food stalls are."

For the first time, Kasian's eyes showed genuine focus. "What."

---

The market district was chaos. Crimson-robed figures launched energy blasts at buildings while civilians fled. Their leader, a muscular woman with glowing red tattoos, directed the destruction.

"Let all witness the price of defying Lord Magnus's will! We shall—"

"Excuse me."

She turned to find Kasian standing there, looking more annoyed than she'd ever seen anyone look.

"Did you," he asked slowly, "just destroy Old Man Chen's dumpling stall?"

"The very fabric of society will burn in our—"

"Yes or no question."

The cult leader sneered. "That pathetic food stand? It was the first to—"

Kasian closed his eyes. Several emotions crossed his face, finally settling on something between resignation and irritation.

"I was saving those dumplings for dinner."

What happened next was best summarized by a witness report filed later that day:

"The Crimson Fang cultists were clearly about to reveal their master plan when a freak windstorm struck the market district. This natural phenomenon somehow stripped them of their enhanced powers and coincidentally deposited them in neat piles for the city guard to arrest. The Shadow Blade was seen in the vicinity earlier, which probably explains everything."

Kasian stood amid the unconscious cultists, mourning the loss of his dinner plans. A small crowd had gathered at a safe distance, already building elaborate theories about weather patterns and energy convergences.

"Um, excuse me?" A trembling voice caught his attention. Old Man Chen emerged from the rubble of his stall, clutching a sealed container. "You're my best customer, so I saved something when I saw them coming..."

Kasian's eyes lit up at the sight of the dumplings. "Old Man Chen, you're the real hero here."

"Oh no, it must have been the Shadow Blade who saved us! I heard she can control the weather now..."

"Right, right. How much do I owe you?"

As Kasian sat on a piece of rubble, contentedly eating his dumplings, he noticed Lei Ming doing push-ups nearby.

"Your form's getting better, Lei Ping."

"It's Lei Ming. And thanks. I think." Lei Ming paused his exercise. "You know, people are starting to talk about a connection between you and all these incidents."

"Mm?" Kasian said through a mouthful of dumpling.

"They're calling it the 'Lucky Wanderer Effect' – how fortune seems to favor the righteous whenever you're around."

"People think too much." Kasian stood, dusting off his clothes. "Speaking of thinking, I should check on my laundry."

He walked away, leaving behind a market district full of unconscious cultists, growing legends about the Shadow Blade's weather manipulation powers, and one student who was beginning to understand that sometimes the greatest strength lies in not caring about appearing strong at all.

A passing guard noticed Lei Ming. "Hey, you! Did you see the Shadow Blade? We need a statement for our report on how she controlled the weather!"

"Sorry," Lei Ming replied, returning to his push-ups. "I was too busy with basic training."

From several streets away, Kasian heard the exchange and almost smiled. Almost.

He had more pressing concerns. Like whether his laundry was dry, and where to find dinner now that he'd finished his dumplings.

The fact that he'd just dismantled another cult operation, inspired a student, and inadvertently added weather control to someone else's growing legend didn't even register as worth remembering.

After all, it had only taken one hit each. Hardly worth noting.

## The Weight of Rank

Kasian had a simple philosophy about walking: the best path was whichever one led to food. Unfortunately, this path happened to cross the Elite Warriors' private training grounds.

"Halt!" A sharp voice commanded. "This area is restricted to First Class warriors only."

Kasian paused, sniffing the air. "Is someone grilling meat?"

Jin Wei, Third Rank warrior and notorious enforcer of the Association's hierarchy, stepped forward. His pristine white robes bore the golden insignia of the elite class, and his perfectly maintained hair spoke of hours spent on appearance.

"Your ignorance of protocol is astonishing," Jin Wei declared. "First, you'll need to present your ranking certificate. Then, submit form A-13 for grounds access. Finally—"

"It's definitely grilled pork," Kasian mused, still sniffing. "Maybe with that sweet marinade they use in the southern provinces..."

Jin Wei's eye twitched. "Are you even listening? Do you know who I am?"

"Someone who's blocking the way to food?"

A vein pulsed in Jin Wei's forehead. The gathered elite warriors – his usual audience – shifted uncomfortably. They'd seen this look before, usually before Jin Wei thoroughly demolished an upstart.

"Very well." Jin Wei assumed a perfect combat stance. "Let me educate you on the difference between ranks. I've spent fifteen years mastering the Seven Sacred Forms. My technique has been praised by the Grandmasters themselves. I—"

"Oh," Kasian interrupted, "you're doing that thing where people talk about themselves before fighting. Sorry, go ahead."

Jin Wei's carefully maintained composure cracked slightly. "You... you dare mock the sacred traditions of combat?"

"Not mocking. Just hungry." Kasian glanced toward the food smell again. "How much longer will this take?"

"WITNESS TRUE MASTERY!"

Jin Wei moved like lightning, his renowned 'Descending Phoenix Strike' cutting through the air. It was a technique that had earned him his rank, combining speed, power, and precision in a way that had defeated countless challengers.

Kasian stepped slightly to the left.

Jin Wei crashed into the wall behind him.

"Huh," Kasian said. "Your form's actually pretty good. But you're trying too hard to look good while doing it."

Jin Wei extracted himself from the wall, his perfect hair now distinctly disheveled. "How... how dare you! My technique is flawless! I've spent years—"

"Yeah, that's the problem." Kasian scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You're so busy looking flawless that you forgot to just hit things properly. Like this."

He flicked a finger.

The resulting pressure wave didn't just knock Jin Wei down – it systematically dismantled his expensive robes, mussed his carefully maintained hair, and somehow reorganized his golden rank insignia into a tiny smiley face.

The gathered elite warriors gasped. Then, following protocol, they immediately began explaining away what they'd just witnessed:

"Clearly, the humidity affected the spiritual convergence..."

"Jin Wei's breakfast must have been improperly balanced..."

"Mercury is obviously in retrograde..."

But Jin Wei, lying there in his ruined dignity, had an epiphany. For the first time in fifteen years, he wasn't thinking about how he looked, or what others thought, or what this meant for his rank.

He was thinking about that finger flick.

Kasian was already walking away, following his nose toward the source of the grilled pork smell. He hadn't even bothered to hear the excuses.

"Wait!" Jin Wei scrambled to his feet. "You... you must tell me your name!"

"Kasian. Though people usually forget it."

"Kasian! From this day forward, I declare you my rival! I shall follow your path of combat and one day..." He struck a dramatic pose, somewhat undermined by his tattered clothing. "I shall defeat you!"

"Okay," Kasian said, clearly not listening. "Anyone know if that pork vendor takes credit tokens? I left my coin purse in my other pants."

Jin Wei wasn't deterred. If anything, this casual dismissal strengthened his resolve. "Mark my words! I shall uncover the secret of your strength! I shall—"

But Kasian had already wandered off, leaving Jin Wei to his declarations.

The next day, witnesses reported seeing the infamous Jin Wei, terror of the lower ranks, practicing basic punches in the public training grounds. His hair was uncombed, his robes were simple training gear, and he seemed completely unconcerned with who might be watching.

"Has he gone mad?" other elite warriors whispered.

"Lost his mind after some mysterious training accident," they decided.

But Lei Ming and Aria, watching from different corners of the training ground, recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same realization they'd each had: sometimes the strongest person in the room is the one who doesn't care about appearing strong at all.

Meanwhile, Kasian was dealing with his own crisis: the pork vendor had moved locations, and no one could give him proper directions.

Some problems, it seemed, were beyond even a god's power to solve easily.